Page 8 of A Rogue in Twilight
Struan guided them toward an elderly woman standing with two young women, all silk and feathers, elegance and hauteur. Two gentlemen stood with them, one in somber black, the other in a red plaid Highland kilt, jacket, bonnet, sporran, and socks.
Struan made quick introductions, and Elspeth barely caught the names. “My great-aunt, Lady Rankin of Kelso. My sister, Miss Fiona MacCarran, and Miss Charlotte Sinclair,” he said of the women. He then indicated a tall blond man beside him. “This is my brother, Dr. William MacCarran. And this is Sir Philip Rankin. May I introduce Miss Elspeth MacArthur and Miss Lucie Graham.”
“Pleased,” Lady Rankin said, not sounding so. She was tall and buxom in cream silk trimmed in chocolate brown flounces, the skirt filled out by the hoops court dress used to require, and some still satisfied in their dress. Her white-plumed headdress made the lady look like an eight-foot-tall ostrich, Elspeth thought. Feeling a pale mouse beside her in silver blue, Elspeth lifted her chin and smiled.
Struan and his brother were impeccably and severely dressed in black cutaway coats and trousers, with waistcoat and neckcloths of white and cream. They had no hint of thistle, heather, or plaid about them. Sir Philip, on the other hand, wore a blazingly red tartan plaid and stockings with a black jacket. The ladies were in formal court dress too, although Fiona’s dress of muted plum satin trimmed in black appeared to be in mourning colors. Elspeth tilted her head, wondering who had passed away to affect the MacCarran siblings; perhaps the brothers wore somber formal outfits for that reason too.
Ah, Lady Struan, she remembered then. The elderly lady who had held that estate had passed away earlier in the summer. She had been an acquaintance of Donal MacArthur, and must be related to the young Lord Struan and his siblings.
Grandmother.The word came to her then. She wondered if that was so.
“Where is Kilcrennan located, Miss MacArthur?” Lady Rankin asked.
“Near the Trossach Mountains, madam, in the Highlands,” she replied.
“Oh yes! We plan to travel there to visit my nephew at his new estate,” Lady Rankin said. “We wish to tour Loch Katrine and the other sights described in Sir Walter Scott’s marvelous poetry. They say the views are magnificent.”
“It truly is beautiful there,” Elspeth agreed.
“I was not aware you plan to travel north, Aunt,” Struan said.
“Did I neglect to mention it? It is quite exciting. The Highlands are marvelous to behold in the autumn. I have persuaded Miss Sinclair to accompany me, with perhaps Sir Philip or your cousin Nicholas as our traveling companions.”
“Fiona,” Struan said to his sister, “if our lady aunt travels north, you must come with her.” Elspeth detected a note in his voice, as if something was understood between the siblings.
“I shall certainly try,” Fiona MacCarran replied.
“Do you know the area well, Miss MacArthur?” Struan asked then.
“Quite well. Loch Katrine is not far from Kilcrennan, where I live with my grandfather.”
“Then you are not far from Struan House,” he replied.
“Struan is a few miles up the glen. My grandfather knew the late viscountess, and I met her myself. We were very sorry to hear of her passing. She was a kind lady.”
“Thank you.” Struan inclined his head. “She was our grandmother.” He indicated his siblings in his answer. Fiona smiled and Dr. MacCarran nodded.
“Lord Struan holds the estate and title,” Charlotte Sinclair said, and slipped her arm through his. “But he has so little time to visit there. Perhaps for an occasional hunting party, isn’t that right, James? He is quite busy as a professor of natural philosophy at the university.”
Elspeth nodded, smiled, and understood she was being warned away. Miss Sinclair practically glared at her above the rim of her delicate painted fan.
“Recently I arranged to take a brief absence from my lectures in order to spend some time on the estate,” Struan explained.
“I hope you enjoy it,” Elspeth said. No one seemed to hear, but a smile touched his lips and he glanced at her.
“What sort of philosophy do you teach?” Lucie asked. “There is so muchofit.”
“Natural philosophy, Miss Graham. Geology, some call it now. Rocks. Earth.”
“There is rather a lot of rock in the Trossachs,” Elspeth said.
He inclined his head. “That sounds very intriguing, Miss MacCarran.”
“Miss MacArthur, forgive me,” Lady Rankin said. “I do not recall your debut.”
“A quiet debut, my lady,” Elspeth said. “A few years ago I attended a hunt ball in honor of the Lord Provost, as well as concerts in Edinburgh with my cousins, the Grahams of Lincraig.”
“I recall that,” Charlotte Sinclair said. “I was there with the family of the Deputy Lord Provost, Sir Hector Graham, and his two elder daughters. Miss Ellison Graham is a friend. I remember meeting Sir John Graham and Miss Lucie Grahamthere, but I do not remember you, Miss.” She frowned at Elspeth.
